Bound by fate
721 Words
Chapter 4: Bound by Fate
Freya's heart pounded in her ears as Alaric led her down the darkened corridors. His grip on her wrist was firm but not cruel, a silent reminder that she was still a prisoner, even if she didn't feel like one. The deeper down they descended, the air became heavier—not just with the damp chill of stone, but with something heavier, something older.
She could feel it pressing against her skin.
Magic.
The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
"Where are you taking me?" she demanded, pulling against his hold.
Alaric didn't stop. "Somewhere you might have answers."
Her jaw tightened. "And if I don't want to go?"
This time he did stop, confronting her. His amber eyes burned in the soft light, sharp and assessing. "You came into my territory, witch. Willingly or not, you've started something. So, unless you have a better idea, I suggest that you walk."
Freya hated the way her body reacted before she could even protest.
They reached a large room, its high ceilings consumed by shadow. Its walls were lined with thick chains, iron cuffs glinting in the faint torchlight. But it was no dungeon. Freya could feel the power humming in the air, permeated into the walls of this building.
It wasn't built to hold criminals.
It was built to hold something else.
Something dangerous.
In the center of the room stood a raised stone dais, its surface etched with deep grooves in an intricate pattern. Alaric stepped forward, his fingers following the markings.
Freya's breath hitched. She did recognize this.
"A binding stone," she breathed.
Alaric's gaze slides towards her. "So, you do know."
Her fists clenched. "I know it's used to imprison those who are too powerful to be contained by normal means."
"Correct.
Her stomach tightened. "Are you going to use it on me?"
Alaric's silence was response enough.
Panic swelled in her chest. "I don't belong here—"
"You don't belong anywhere," he cut in, taking another step forward. "Not in my lands. Not in my world. And yet… here you are."
Freya swallowed hard. His tone wasn't cruel, but there was something in it that made her nervous. A certainty she couldn't quite understand.
He clicked his fingers.
The chains on the walls stirred, twisting and turning like they were alive. They leapt at Freya before she could react, coiling around her wrists. The moment the cold iron touched her flesh, searing pain shot through her.
No—not pain.
Something worse.
Her magic surged out, as if summoned by the touch of the chains. It fought against the bindings, trying to break them, but the runes carved into the metal glowed bright, keeping it trapped.
Freya screamed, knees nearly buckling. She could feel it now—herself.
The raw, untamed power inside her.
For the first time, she wasn't just aware of its existence.
She could feel how vast it was.
And so could Alaric.
He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "Interesting."
Freya gritted her teeth. "Let me go."
Alaric ignored her. His eyes gleamed with something she couldn't place. Curiosity? Concern?
Fear?
"You shouldn't have magic like this," he muttered.
Freya's breath came in short, sharp bursts. "And yet… I do."
The runes on the chains blazed again, and a whisper echoed in her mind.
Bound by fate. Bound by fire. He will find you. He will claim you.
She shivered. The words weren't hers.
Yet they sounded like a prophecy.
Alaric's fingers tightened on the chains. His golden eyes burned into hers. "What are you?"
Freya lifted her chin, looking him dead in the eye. "I don't know."
The words hung between them, weighted with something unspoken.
Then, without warning, Alaric released her. The chains dropped to the ground, the magic in them dispersing.
Freya stumbled back, rubbing her wrists, but the sensation lingered—the feeling of power beneath her skin.
Of something… stirring.
Alaric watched her for a long time. Then his voice dropped to barely audible.
"We will find out."
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Freya by herself with the weight of a truth she wasn't ready to believe.
Because deep inside, she knew—
She was bound to him. And whatever force had brought them together… wasn't done yet.
- Writer
